


Kitchen Encounters

by Katie (katieandsav)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Burgers - Freeform, Cas being Cas, Cooking, Fluff, M/M, idk man, katie's shit, samxwifi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:39:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katieandsav/pseuds/Katie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas decides to help Dean make dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitchen Encounters

Two simple facts:   
Dean was good at cooking; Castiel was not.

A little more detail:   
Rachel Ray couldn't hold a candle to Dean's burgers; Castiel couldn't butter toast without something going wrong.

However, when the fallen angel tilted his head to the side and blinked at Dean with those blue, blue eyes, the hunter couldn't refuse his offer to help with dinner that night.

And that's how a perplexed ex-angel and an increasingly frustrated Winchester ended up arguing over burgers.

"Dean, why don't you--"

"I know what I'm doing, Cas."

"But I believe red lettuce would look more attractive."

"We're using the green lettuce."

"But--"

"Cas, I swear to god--"

"Please do not blaspheme my father."

"Alright, fine, sorry."

"Can we put extra cheese on the--"

"Castiel."

"Dean?"

"Shut up and get the mince meat."

Orders such as that would lead to Castiel grumbling under his breath about how he got Dean out of Hell, and how  _Dean_  should be the one following  _his_  orders.

(At least three bottles of hunter's helper lay empty by the end of the first hour.)

For once, Dean was actually starting to wish Sam was around. The younger Winchester was out at an Internet cafe, since the wifi signal that seemed to follow him around like a faithful puppy had crapped out. (At which point, Sam's voice had risen several octaves and even his mane of hair had seemed to go limp out of distress.)

So, since there wasn't an actual hunt going on, Dean had opted to stay back in the Bat Cave. Which meant his "profound bond" buddy, aka Castiel, had done the same.

But now, as Cas stood before Dean, his expression solemn and an egg cupped in his hands as if it were one of the holy weapons of Heaven, the hunter regretted his decision to not go along with Sam. His younger brother's Dumbledorking would've been much better than Castiel's--

Oh, crap. Now the ex-angel had cracked the egg too hard against the edge of the bowl and was looking severely alarmed by the mixture of yolk and crushed shell that had flown across the counter and was dripping down the sleeve of his trench coat.

"It broke," Cas announced, utterly bewildered.

"Nice deduction, Sherlock," came the reply, Dean's tone dry and tired. He shifted his weight off the fridge so he wasn't leaning against the door anymore and yanked it open, reaching for another bottle of beer.

"My name is not Sherlock," Cas replied. "It is Castiel."

Dean sighed. "Whatever, Cas." He twisted the cap off the bottle and took a swig, relishing the slight burning of the fizz as the golden liquid slipped down his throat.

The dark-haired man was silent for a couple moments.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"How do I get it off my hand?"

"By using the tap, Cas. Like you did before we started."

Silence.

"Cas," Dean started slowly. "You did wash your hands before we started cooking, right?"

No reply.

"Oh, god." Dean rubbed his eyes and turned to look at Castiel. Cas's mouth was twisted to the side worriedly, his cheeks flushed and his gaze on the ground. Dean realised he hadn't ever seen him blush before.

"I did not know I had to wash my hands before dealing with food," the ex-angel mumbled. He frowned at the tap. "How do you operate this faucet? It is unlike the one in the bathroom, Dean." This thought seemed to upset Cas, for he looked to the hunter with such a look of distress that Dean's annoyance and slight disgust melted away.

He sighed. "Alright, let's get your feathery ass cleaned up."

"Even before I had fallen, I never had feathers on my rear."

Dean didn't bother replying. The hunter walked over to the sink and turned the taps on, pressing down the plug and waiting until the basin was filled with warm water before turning back to his friend. "Get over here," he ordered. "But take off your coat, first. I'll get Sam to take it to the laundromat."

Cas did as he was told, then obligingly stepped closer to Dean and held out his hand.

Dean looked at him. "I'm not cleaning you, if that's what you think's gonna happen."

"But I do not know how to do it myself."

"What!?" The hunter stared at Castiel in horror.

At first, Cas looked confused by Dean's disgust, but then he seemed to catch on. "I have not had any need to use the lavatory, as of yet; I just shower."   
He nodded affirmatively, still not dropping his arm.

Dean sighed and took his hand, then, after dunking a cloth in the water, gently started wiping the egg away. "Jesus, Cas," he said, crinkling his nose. "Were you  _trying_  to get this stuff everywhere?"

Castiel gave him a scathing look. "I didn't know it would explode."

"'Course it exploded. I saw how hard you whacked it against the bowl. I'm pretty sure if you hit me over the top of the head like that, my brains would've gone everywhere, too."

The ex-angel looked alarmed. "I will not touch your head, in that case. I didn't know humans had such frail skulls."

This gained a laugh from Dean. "I was joking, Cas."

"Oh."

Dean was still chuckling as he grabbed a dish towel to dry Castiel's hand with. "Alright. There you go," he said as he dropped the fallen angel's hand.

"Thank you, Dean." Cas lifted his hand to examine it, flexing his fingers. He raised his gaze to Dean's face again and fixed him with another one of those intense stares that anyone with the vaguest concept of personal space wouldn't be able to muster. Dean realised they were still standing at a ridiculously close distance; he could feel Cas's warm breath brushing his cheek. The hunter stepped back.

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't tell Sammy I freaking... gave you a bath, or whatever the hell that was, okay? Don't make it weird." Dean wrung the cloth out and removed the basin's plug, watching the water whirlpool away before hanging the cloth over the edge of the sink to dry. When he looked up, he saw Cas was still watching him, his blue eyes bright with a certain fascination.

He returned the ex-angel's stare; Dean wasn’t going to be the first to look away. However, several minutes later, he was. "Take a picture," the Winchester muttered as he turned back to the kitchen counter. "It'll last longer."

"I have no need to take a snapshot, for we have not finished dinner yet. Actually, I am currently starting to wonder if a picture would, in fact, last longer, at the rate we are going."

Dean looked back at Castiel in surprise, his lips parting in a silent "o" of "What the hell? Did  _Castiel_ , of all people, just make a joke?"

Cas didn't seem to notice the hunter's expression. In fact, he looked almost proud. "I think I am starting to get the hang of human humour," he announced, obviously pleased with his achievement.

"Well," Dean said after he recovered from his shock, "it won't go down in history, but it was better than that Enochian goat ear-sex joke. You angels are weird, you know."

Castiel looked somewhat crestfallen; for some reason, this caused Dean's heart to pang.

"Kidding, man," he amended. "Nice one, Cas. The joke, I mean. You're definitely getting the hang of this."

The fallen angel's eyes immediately lit up, a genuine grin breaking out on his lips. Dean studied him for a moment, feeling a smile starting to tug on one corner of his lips in return. After Cas had fallen, he had seemed so lost and scared and _broken_. Dean had started to wonder if he would ever see him watching a bumblebee contentedly again. He'd missed the guy's awed ravings-on about nature, even though he'd never admit it. It was good to see Cas happy again.

"Why don't you take a picture?" Cas asked after several moments, still wearing that grin.

Dean blinked out of his daze. "What?"

"It will last longer," quipped the ex-angel.

Dean was so surprised by the imitation that he burst out laughing, having to steady himself by placing a hand on the counter. By the time he was wiping tears of amusement from his cheeks, Cas looked concerned. He scrutinised the hunter worriedly. "Dean, are you okay?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah," Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I'm fine Cas."

"Then why are you weeping?" Castiel asked dubiously.

"I'm not crying, Cas. It's a human thing. If you laugh hard enough, sometimes your eyes water."

"Oh. Humans are odd," he decided.

"Guess so. But you're human now, so doesn't that mean you're weird, too?" Dean grinned.

Castiel frowned as he thought this over. "Perhaps... Yes. I believe you are right. I, too, am odd, now." He chewed the edge of his lip as he decided on this fact, the movement drawing Dean's eyes to his mouth. Sam had finally convinced the ex-angel to use lip balm, so--praise Cas's dad--Castiel's lips were smooth, without the perpetual chapped-and-cracked look that used to make Dean wince. Having lips as dry as the desert's ground looked painful.

Castiel's jaw bore his trademark scruff; the Winchesters had suggested shaving, but when Cas found out that his stubble would return within twenty-four hours, he concluded that the process would frustrate him far too much and set down the shaver. (Dean wouldn't admit it, but secretly, he was glad--Cas's scruff was as much a part of him as his messy black hair and that goddamn trench coat.) Thankfully, though, he appeared to pick the razor up often enough that a beard never found its way onto the fallen angel's face.

Dean's gaze trailed up Cas's face--following the bridge of his nose and the lines of his high cheekbones. Finally, the hunter's eyes met his angel's (Dean didn't bother correcting himself that time; even if Cas had fallen, he would always be Dean's socially inept, loyal, earnest angel) and he found that Castiel had fixed him with another stare, the blue of his eyes so intense that it was verging on cobalt.

"Cas," Dean said quietly. "Personal space?"

"I'm not the one who stepped forward, Dean."

"What?" Dean looked down and realised that, in fact, Cas was right--the fallen angel hadn't moved, yet they were somehow much closer than they were before. He lifted his gaze to Castiel's face.

The ex-angel was silent; his head was tilted to the side as he studied the hunter curiously. Dean shifted somewhat uncomfortably beneath Cas's gaze; those blue eyes seemed to take Dean apart, to examine every inch of his mind and heart. It made him feel vulnerable--completely bared to Castiel.

"Hey, Cas?" he found himself saying.

"Dean?"

"How far did you, uh, get with that girl--Chastity?--when I took you out before that blow-up with Raphael?"

Silence.

For some reason, Dean felt his heart pounding in his chest. He was nervous. Why was he nervous? He shouldn't be nervous. Why did he even ask that--

Oh, crap, the flush had returned to Cas's cheeks. What did that mean? Oh, crap. Dean shouldn't have asked. He would just drop the topic and they'd get on with their burgers. That sounded like a good plan.

"You know what," Dean said, "Never mind. It doesn't mat--"

"She loosened my tie," Castiel mumbled sheepishly.

Dean blinked. "That's it?"

"Yes. I felt the need to tell Chastity about her father before we started. It would give her closure. I couldn't put that off."

Dean was silent for a second. Then he released a laugh. Cas's embarrassed expression melted into one somewhere between annoyance, offence and pure confusion. "I was not intending to be humorous, Dean," he said defensively. "Telling her was the right thing to do, even if it upset her at the time."

The hunter shook his head, managing to suppress his laughter. "Jesus, Cas. You're too nice sometimes, you know."

"I was an angel," Castiel said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I liked to help people, Dean. I still do. You should understand that. You do the same, don't you? You save people's lives."

Dean's grin faded. "Doesn't always work out, though, does it?"

"The point is that you still tr--"

"Bullcrap," Dean snarled. "Who cares how hard I try if people still die?"

Cas regarded him sadly. "You can't save everyone, Dean."

The hunter grunted out a reply, his chest tight and his good mood evaporated. "Whatever. Let's just get on with the burgers, okay? Sammy'll be home soon and I don't feel like telling him the reason dinner isn't ready is 'cos we had a goddamn chick-flick moment." He moved to walk away, but Castiel lifted his hand and caught Dean's wrist, keeping him in place.

"Dean," Cas said, his gravelly voice quiet. "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" snapped Dean.

"Blaming everything on yourself. No man can carry the weight of the world on his shoulders."

"Oh, spare me, Cas." He yanked his arm away and leveled his friend with a glare. "I freaking started the apocalypse. If that guilt didn't kill me, a couple kids getting ganked every now and then ain't gonna. But that still don't mean it doesn't make me feel like crap, okay?"

"You didn't," Cas said simply.

This threw Dean off slightly. "Huh?"

"You didn't start the apocalypse, Dean. That was Sam. He killed Lilith; he broke the final seal."

"Well, I still shoulda kept him away from that Ruby bitch!" Dean replied, his tone rising. "I tried, Cas, but I should've made sure. I didn't like her from the start."

"And you're doing it again." Castiel sighed. "Dean, not everything bad that happens is your fault."

"If I don't take responsibility for all this crap," the Winchester said with a wry smile, "then who will?"

Castiel studied him silently for a couple moments, then, using the hand that he still had clasped around Dean's wrist, pulled the hunter to him.

Dean tried to recoil but was held in place (and was once again reminded of Cas's strength. Under his trench coat, it was difficult to see his muscles; and even so, Dean used to disregard all his strength as angel powers or whatever. But after Castiel had fallen, it soon became obvious that Jimmy wasn't exactly scrawny).

"Cas," Dean started, trying to pull away again, "what are you--"

The ex-angel muttered a quiet "keep still" and lifted his hand, placing it on the back of Dean's neck. He pulled the hunter's face down to his own, crushing their lips together.

Dean released a surprised sound when their lips met and started to pull away, but as the movement of Cas's lips against his own lost its annoyed urgency, he started to cautiously return the kiss.

Castiel's fingers slid into Dean's hair, tangling in the light locks and pulling him a little closer. When he released Dean's wrist, the hunter hesitantly raised his hand and placed it on the side of the fallen angel's neck, gently nudging his thumb up against the underside of Cas's chin to get him to tip up his face, to lift his mouth closer to Dean's.

The kiss continued for a couple more moments, awkward and weird and cautious... but strangely nice.

Dean was the first to pull away; their lips parted with the quiet, yet distinct sound of a kiss. "Cas," Dean whispered, glancing down at the fallen angel's lips briefly. They were parted a little, and pink and ever so slightly swollen from the kiss. "What the hell was that?"

"A kiss," Cas whispered back.

"Well, yeah, I know that much--"

"Then why did you ask?"

"--but why did you kiss me?"

"You were upset."

"And?"

"I wanted to make you happy again."

"So you kissed me."

"Yes."

"I still don't get it," Dean said after a moment. "Why... did you decide kissing, in particular, would make me happy again?"

Cas considered this. "Because when you are upset, you either drink or go find a woman in a bar. Since you have already been drinking, I assumed it would be a latter. So I thought I would save you the trouble." He paused. "Did it help?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Dean couldn't help but duck down again to plant another light kiss on Cas's lips, surprised by how enjoyable he found the light graze of Castiel's scruff against the jaw. "Yeah," he said, almost grinning. "I guess it d--"

The sharp crack of a slamming door cut Dean off. "Hey, guys," Sam called as he ambled into the kitchen from the hall. "I'm back. Is dinner--" He stopped when he saw his brother and the fallen angel: how their hands were tangled in each other's hair; how they were pressed together; how their lips were only millimeters apart. "Oh.  _Oh_ ," Sam managed to choke out after a couple moments of staring at them in shock, clutching his laptop like a life raft.

"What's with the Chewbacca impression?" Dean asked nonchalantly. "Just because you look like Chewie doesn't mean you have to act like him, you know."

Sam ignored him, his words coming out in a yelp. "What happened!?"

"We couldn't finish the burgers," Cas informed him. "We had a small mishap with the egg." He cast Dean a sideways glance, a tiny, mischievous smile playing on his lips.


End file.
